


medicine (you could go home)

by kingdomdizzy



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Blood and Injury, Character Death, Multi, Multiple Perspectives, Not A Fix-It, Sad, Songfic, not a specific route
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:47:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22518724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingdomdizzy/pseuds/kingdomdizzy
Summary: A sunny day, they said.An empty day, they declared.A slight chill rested in the air, they noticed.Their next battle was to be their last, they announced.Then, they could go home.
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril
Comments: 11
Kudos: 32





	medicine (you could go home)

**Author's Note:**

> pls read the tags this is all just sad sad sad
> 
> title and story idea from the song medicine by daughter

A sunny day, they said. Hardly a cloud in the sky, the first one like this since before the Ethereal Moon. Everyone had found themselves in good spirits, meandering around the academy without so much as a wondering worry.

“Get up, please, _please_ , get up.”

Hilda’s head lolled back and forth in Marianne’s lap, pale pink irises nearly covered by black blown out pupils and red burst blood vessels. Freikugel was still held feebly in her hand. The glow of it was dimming slowly, ever so slightly, hardly noticeable under the blood coating the blade. Marianne’s hand shook against her cheek, and moved to her clavicle, just under which an arrow had pierced through her armor. Dangerously close to the heart. 

“M... Marianne,” Hilda tried weakly.

“Heal,” she whispered to herself, feeling the tingle in her fingers but seeing no change in the would, in the amount of blood, in the other gashes she could fix in the infirmary but if this arrow moved at all it could _kill_ her and—

“Marianne, my love.”

“Goddess, grant me this power.” Marianne’s eyes were closed, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Heal. Heal. _Heal_.”

Hilda’s hand let go of Freikugel to reach up and lace with hers, still shaking with effort, sticky with blood. She brought it back down to her cheek and leaned into it. Sobs racked Marianne’s body as she ran her free fingers through Hilda’s hair.

“My love,” Hilda repeated, “I’m sorry we won’t run away together as we said.”

“P-Please do not apologize,” Marianne choked. “Wherever I go, you will be there with me.”

Hilda hummed in agreement. Her voice had become barely a whisper, now. “You have a second chance. To escape, to start over.”

“I could never be so strong without you by my side,” she cried. “Please, stay awake. Manuela might be around soon with some medicine.”

“Hm, it’s just medicine.”

Marianne looked back at Hilda to see her eyes shift focus. No longer were they watching her own; they looked up at the sky, hardly a cloud to be seen, but soft drops of rain began to fall. None so heavy as the tears that fell onto her ashen cheeks as the light in the Hero Relic died, and Marianne let out the cry of a heartbroken beast. 

An empty day, they declared. Too good of a day to spend inside the cardinals’ room. They were free to take to the market, fish at the docks, leisure as one would please. The strategy meeting would be postponed until tomorrow; a whole handful of daylight to spend away from the war. 

“Hey, hey, there we go, we can hide here until reinforcements show up.” 

Caspar had managed to find a piece of rubble shaped enough like a cave for them to hide away, though he was sure Linhardt’s feet might give away their position, moving him was no option. He groaned from where he sat, and Caspar adjusted slightly until he was curled up next to his chest, as small as he could make them.

“Why’d you do that,” Caspar whispered. He bit his cheek, trying to keep his eyes from watering. “I could’ve taken that blow.”

“It was to your weak side,” Linhardt stated, causing a cough to ravage through his body, “and it was in your blind spot. If it had hit, you would have become wide open to the attack from the swordsman in front of you.”

Caspar just shook his head, casting a glance down to the brawler wound cut straight into Linhardt’s ribs. Something churned in his stomach. He looked back up. “C’mon, Lin, there’s still so much you need to do. Remember when we were kids? All that stuff about crests this and crests that? You still have to figure that out.”

“I’d much rather… take a nap, Caspar.”

His grip tightened. _Apply pressure to the wound_ , he remembered. “You’ve got such a warm heart, Lin. A beautiful, _beautiful_ brain.”

Linhardt took a labored breath. “Yes, well, they seem… to be disintegrating.”

Caspar looked around for something, anything, anyone that may be able to help. “This is all my fault,” he choked. 

“Ngh… no, it was… my choice.” Linhardt’s breathing was shallow. Each breath caused a pulse of blood onto Caspar’s arm. His head rested in the crook of Caspar’s neck. “I’ve never been the biggest fan of blood,” he mumbled, “least of all my own, you know.”

“I know, Linny.” Tears streamed down his cheeks now. “All the blood will go away soon, once we get you some medicine. It’ll all go away.”

“Tch, no it won’t.” He let out a short huff. “It’s just medicine.” 

Caspar cried quietly into the air, waiting for help to come, yet wishing that maybe if they didn’t, the nightmare would simply end. The blood stopped flowing. A day of leisure turned to destruction. 

A slight chill rested in the air, they noticed. One only brought on by clear days such as these. It was nothing they were not used to; the snow on the ground was melting away, meaning it was already so much warmer than their home. Days like this seemed a rarity, one that reminded them so much of where they had grown yet also seemed so far away.

“We should’ve stayed at home, huh?”

Sylvain was on his back, one leg twisted at an odd angle where his horse had landed on it. Arrows were splayed across his breastplate like they were meant to be a work of art. The sunlight made his hair look a lot redder, Felix thought. Though, perhaps it was just the blood. “Shut up,” he mumbled, hands working quickly on the bandages he had stuffed into his pockets. 

“You’re right,” Sylvain chuckled to himself, “I never liked that frozen-over hellscape, anyway.”

“We’re going back,” Felix spat out, moving on to the next wound. “And I’m _not_ bringing your corpse.”

He chuckled, earning a growl of annoyance from Felix. “Awe, Fe, it sounds almost like you’d _miss_ me or something.”

Felix paused, looking at the gashes still scattered across Sylvain’s body and his hands, empty. Out of bandages, out of time. Sylvain was still looking at the sky, something they never really got to see at their home. “You’re an idiot.”

Whether he was saying it to Sylvain or himself, he wasn’t sure. He watched the blood bubble out of Sylvain’s mouth, coating his sad smile. “You may be right, but I still caught you somehow.”

Felix moved forward, ignoring the pain in his own body, to brush the hair out of Sylvain’s face and move his eyes to his. “We were supposed to die together, you fool.” 

“I’ll be waiting for you.” His eyes moved back to the sky. “I always have been.”

“You should’ve brought something else,” Felix said to himself. “You should’ve brought medicine—”

“Nothing could help me, you know that.”

He felt so tired and decided to curl himself to Sylvain’s side, hardly able to hear the beat of his heart. Everything felt cold. Like home. This almost made Felix cry. Almost. “It’s medicine...”

“...just medicine.” 

Their next battle was to be their last, they announced. The end of the war, the end to the suffering that had lasted more years than it needed to be. Plans were being hatched, not about battle positions or secret strategies, but about after. Going home, seeing family, perhaps even starting one, now that the land would be in peace. 

“Peace…”

Claude had fallen from his wyvern somewhere over here; Dimitri knew it. He couldn’t have taken his eyes off his falling body even if he wanted to, arrows shooting towards him, his own Failnaught still drawn as he disappeared into the trees. Dimitri wanted to shout his name but didn’t know how many of them could still be hiding among the bushes. He clenched Areadbhar in his hand. _I will find you_.

“Dima…”

He was in a clearing, not far from where his wyvern lay, arms spread out. Dimitri turned around a tree and saw him, instantly running to his side and collapsing onto his knees. “Claude, my love, are you alright? Can you get up?”

“I don’t think so,” he laughed bitterly, “I cannot seem to feel my legs. Must’ve been more rough of a fall than I anticipated.”

Dimitri looked down at his own knees, now covered in blood. Whatever pain Claude must be feeling, he hid it well. But Dimitri knew better; he knew Claude was dying. He shook his head, beginning to maneuver his arms underneath Claude. “We will go home,” he said, trying to ignore the broken whimpers beneath him. “I will get you home.”

Claude wailed in pain as Dimitri lifted him into his arms, sweat dripping from his forehead and tears staining his cheeks. “Tell me, Dima,” he croaked, his head nestled into Dimitri’s neck, “what does Fhirdiad look like?”

“You will see, soon enough.”

“Humor me, could you?”

Dimitri swallowed down a lump in his throat. “I… I suppose there might still be snow on the ground. Around this time of year, we sometimes get another fresh layer, leaving everything so… white. It’s calm and relaxing. Perfect for… staying warm inside.”

Claude smiled with a soft hum. “That sounds nice. A shame that I might not get to see it.”

“Nonsense,” Dimitri said. An apology slipped out as he readjusted, earning another groan of pain from Claude. “You will see how amazingly beautiful it is, and I will see your home, and we will share it all, become joined with one another in front of every piece of beautiful land.”

He could see Garreg Mach now, its tall chapel sticking out amongst the trees. They were so close. In his arms, Claude’s eyes were nearly closed. “It would all be nothing compared to you, you know.”

Yes, he supposed he did, because Dimitri would say the exact same about Claude, and would say it until his last breath.

Now, his arms were getting heavy. His feet dragged through the grass with agonizing effort, anything to get closer, closer, _closer_.

He broke through the last barrier of trees, seeing the gates wrecked and thrown open in front of him. With a defeated breath, he felt his legs collapse underneath him. Claude tumbled a few paces away, and Dimitri crawled to him, grabbing his hand. 

“Claude?”

He gave no response, only a small squeeze of his hand. Dimitri could now hardly keep his eyes open, feeling exhaustion rush over him as the expanse of his injuries finally caught up. “Peace,” he whispered. No one could hear. “All I want is… peace.”

He lifted his eyes towards the sky, thinking that perhaps this would be a nice…

“Dimitri!”

The voice sounded so far away. The only thing holding him to earth was Claude’s hand. 

“Your highness! Do you need medicine?”

“What good… would that be? It’s just...”

Claude’s hand slipped from his fingers, but he could swear that he saw him… in the clouds. _Let’s go home._

“Medicine.”

**Author's Note:**

> yell at me on twitter @kingdomdizzy


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